


Of braiding hair and apology cards

by lotor



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Altean Lance (Voltron), Altean Prince Lance, Come Eating, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Hair Braiding, Hair-pulling, M/M, Rimming, Size Difference, Size Kink, Smut, basically lance braids lotor's hair and then they fuck
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-14
Updated: 2017-04-14
Packaged: 2018-10-18 20:42:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,761
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10624785
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lotor/pseuds/lotor
Summary: Lance's long fingers thread through the soft locks gently, his nails scratching on the scalp.Lotor purrs.“Can I braid it?” Lance tries.





	

Leading an intergalactic empire is a terribly tiring job, and if there's someone that can vouch for that, it’s definitely prince Lotor. And while that may count as an excuse for foul moods, waking up later than everyone else and not replying to calls for help, it’s not one for letting yourself go. Your body is a temple, Lance said one day, and Lotor couldn't agree more.

That's why he goes to his spa religiously, exfoliates regularly and has personalized hair care products.

That's also why his hair is soft as sin, and Lance can never stop touching it. He would be preoccupied about him dirting it up too much with his natural oil, if it wasn't so pleasant.

 

He involuntarily lets out a gentle sigh, and Lance, behind him, chuckles. His long fingers thread through the soft locks gently, his nails scratching on the scalp.

Lotor purrs.

 

“Can I braid it?” Lance tries, pressing his almost unclothed torso on his back. Lotor knows he’s just barely covered by a thin sheet of voile, draped loosely around his shoulders as a roman toga, but he twists his head to watch him anyway. Lance looks so pretty, flushed with happiness, golden earrings dangling and glinting in the light of their chambers. They were an impulse gift, found on a planet they visited for a peace treaty, but Lance liked them so much he never takes them off. His ears are adorned with small gems, too, and little golden loops around the cartilage just where the pointy end starts.

His bright, white hair is sticking up everywhere, still sleep mussed.

 

Lotor can’t help but smile at him. “Yes, you might,” he counters, playfully, and Lance presses a noisy kiss on his back.

 

“Thank you, your Majesty,” he mocks, and passes his hands through the fine hair, parting it into three.

 

As Lance works swiftly on his braid, his fingers sure with practice, Lotor hums, his head thrown back to grant better access, body lax against the cool pressure of Lance’s own curled against his. The altean prince has his legs spread open around Lotor’s hips, so close that he can't help but reach for them. He starts caressing the coarse hair on his shins with just the pads, his claws making the skin raise in goosebumps, and he can feel the body shudder which goes through Lance at that, making his mouth curl in a smirk.

 

As his fingers get more bold, kneading the muscles, Lance ties up the braid with one of his golden bracelets. He arches to press more firmly against his shoulder blades, his right hand never leaving the hold on his hair, and _tugs_.

 

Lotor mewls. Lance is probably smiling. He knows what he's doing: digits start caressing his side, blunt nails just barely scraping, leaving a hot trail of shivers in their wake.

“Ah!” Lotor says, and the hand pulls again on the silver braid, this time more sharply.

He can't do anything but fold himself, trying to get more contact. His skin is already getting feverish, a steady yellow blush building on the bridge of his nose and down, reaching his chest.  

Lance suddenly shifts away, and the rustling of fabric means that he’s getting rid of the light toga. He's wrapped the plait around his wrist, though, coiled like a pale snake, two, three times, holding him more securely, so Lotor can’t _see_. He wouldn't be above whining, but Lance doesn't give him a reason to, because when he comes back it's with the firm shape of his bare cock pressed against Lotor’s naked small back, and a groan escapes his lips.

 

“We have a meeting with the balmerans, today,” he prods, without conviction, and Lance nips at his skin with sharp teeth.

“They won’t miss us,” he intones, then grins “They’re probably better off without seeing the hickies you left _everywhere_ yesterday. It’s just a small mercy on my part,” he _winks_ , and even if Lotor can’t see him, he knows. He would finger gun, too, but he only has one hand free. Which is actually too many hands to have free, in Lotor’s opinion, so he takes it and puts it on his pec.

 

Lance gracefully accepts the small manhandling, laughs softly and grinds his hips down. “Lance,” Lotor warns, even as he bends to give him more friction. He doesn’t even know what he’s protesting about. He desperately wants nothing else than Lance to fuck him silly. But he has to give at least a pretense of being a good ruler of the universe, right?

 

“Babe,” Lance calls, dragging his digits on the nipple he voluntarily put under his hand and making his breath itch “I promise, we’ll have them for dinner,” he trails kisses on his back, licks a stripe on the vertebras he can reach. And isn't that exactly what Lotor wanted to hear?

Arranged like this, kneeled on the bed beside him, Lance can only get to the the start of his thoracic spine with the top of his hair, he’s so small. But his dick hits exactly the right spot, comfortably nestled between his ass cheeks, the head dragging deliciously on the smooth, purple skin of his back.

 

Lotor just _has_ to submit. When Lance pulls the braid down again, he goes with it, lets his weight rest more comfortably on the smaller form, and moans.

“Oh,” he murmurs, feeling the cock on his back getting wetter by the second, and “Oh” he starts again when the hand on his nipple chases down the path of his abs and finds his erection.

 

“What do you want me to do, princess?” Lance chuckles warmly, moving his hips again as he starts brushing his thumb on Lotor’s dick, not really touching.

 

 _Ah._ Bony fingers graze his foreskin, pulling it down and circling the head, just to flutter away again.

 

Lance's cock is carving a space for itself, hot and slick, making obscene noises in the silence of the room, interrupted only by Lotor’s hitched breaths.

He's not even been properly touched, but Lotor is  _dripping_. 

 

“Lance, Lance,” he urges, keening, when a fingernail catches on his slit “Fuck me, please.”

 

Lance’s hand and hips stop, and suddenly all the contact between them is lost, except for the braid, still gripped tight. He wants to whip his head around, to know where Lance is, but he can’t move, and the noise he makes is broken and pitiful.

 

At that, the hand comes back around his hip. “Shh,” the altean prince soothes, stroking his flushed skin, and then, firmly “Get on your knees, will you?”

 

He complies, of course, and Lance pushes him down so he’s resting on his elbows too. The plait is so long he just has to unwind a loop, and then he’s stretching above him, warm and solid.

When a lubricated finger pushes into his hole, Lotor shouts.

 

The laugh that follows is heady, liquid fire pooling in his veins, and he can’t find it in himself to be offended.

He’s still loose from last night, so it’s not long till Lance can slip a second finger in.

He sounds conflicted when he says “I really want to lick you open” but Lotor knows he’s grinning, and he pushes his ass higher, shudders, and hopes that’s enough of a reply.

 

It is, because Lance pauses, lets the braid fall on his back and snakes down his body. Nothing could have prepared him to the feel of Lance’s tongue circling sloppily his rim around the fingers already fucking into him unmercifully, dictating a vicious rhythm, nor he’s prepared when Lance uses them to keep his hole wide and slip the muscle inside, wet and rough and _fuck_ , he’s not going to last much longer.

 

“Lance!” he pleads, trying to get away, but finding himself unable to move except than to get more of Lance in his ass.

 

He’s panting and writhing, but as he starts to tense, his orgasm building, all movements stop.

For a terribly long minute, nothing happens; then Lance _giggles_ , kisses his cheek with a smacking noise and extracts his fingers.

 

Lotor hangs his head in shame. His consort is so embarrassing. “Would you kindly ge-” he growls, but the breath his knocked out of him as Lance swiftly rearranges himself and bottoms out in a single thrust.

 

“You were saying?” he sounds smug, even if a little breathy, and Lotor wants to kiss him _so bad_. It seems they have different plans, though, because Lance’s hips retract, slowly, then slam back in.

 

The impact makes him arch even more, with a cry, and his elbows give up, sending him down on the mattress, face pressed against the covers. He breathes through his nose, and Lance draws out till only the tip of his dick is inside, then pulls in. He does it again, and again, and Lotor moans wetly and takes it.

He tries to reach down and fist his own cock, because it's _too much_ , he wants to come so badly, he's already so close, but Lance bats his hand away, without a word, and he whines. _So mean_ , he wants to say, but Lance angles his thrust just right, hitting his prostate, and he sees white.

A throaty sob leaves his mouth, and all it takes for him to come is Lance’s hand finding again the braid and giving it a last, sharp tug.

 

Coming back down from his high, Lotor gives as good as he’s got, clenching his muscles, trying to get more of Lance's cock in, and after a while he can feel him halting and groaning, finally spilling into him.

 

They collapse together in a heap of sweaty limbs, not bothering to clean up, and it would be disgusting if they weren’t also lazy and sated. Lance literally climbs up his body to give him a kiss.

They just share their breaths for a while, panting, trying to get their heartbeats at an acceptable rate again.

 

“You know what?” Lance starts, after a while, and Lotor has stopped wondering how he manages to still talk after sex. He just wants to _snuggle_. In silence, if possible.

But he’s a dutiful husband, so he tries to make his eyebrows look interested.

 

“If you give me five minutes, I’d like to suck the cum out of your ass.”

 

Lotor’s eyes get big as dinner plates.

  
Lance has the sunniest, most unbothered smile he’s ever seen, but he laughs the hardest when he hears him whisper “Forget the dinner. We’ll send them a card.”

**Author's Note:**

> Here I come again with smut and weird galra anatomy bullshit!  
> Subtle world building on my part: Lance and Lotor are (most likely newly) weds, and rule the universe together. Lance is Altean, Lotor is still his half Galran, half Altean self. They fell in love and then got married, joining their forces to keep peace in the universe.  
> Of course, apart from justly maintaining their empire, they also indulge sometimes, because it's only right, isn't it? I feel like many cards will have to be and have already been sent, the balmerans probably knew and never even showed up lmao  
> P.S. yes my Lotor is basically a snuggle monster bye
> 
> Please let me know if you enjoyed it? This pairing is really something, I'd love to write more, and comments/kudos really fuel me. You can find me @[tumblr](http://lotorn.tumblr.com), most likely posting lancelot snippets and headcanons and reblogging art of my purple trash son!


End file.
